


In Spirit of Forgiveness

by TheTransversalArtisan



Category: Invader Zim
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Forgiveness, Humor, Hurt, M/M, Pillow Talk, Retractable Penis, Smut, ZaDr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 14:32:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8987791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTransversalArtisan/pseuds/TheTransversalArtisan
Summary: Zim returns from weeks of being in exile, and Dib isn't happy about it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Please, inform me of any typos or grammatical errors so I may promptly correct them. Thank you.

Dib's knees dug into the carpet on either side of Zim's hips. Stars danced before Zim's eyes as fingers clenched down around his neck.

“Why don't you fight back, Zim? Come on. Fight back!” Dib's fingers clenched tighter, and Zim released a strangled cough, gasping and choking against the pressure, but his hands remained pathetically limp at his sides, his PAK unresponsive.

“Zim...what's wrong with you? Why won't you fight me?” Dib's voice was tight with emotion. Zim felt a wet tear splash against his paste-coated cheek. “Why don't you fight...?” His hands were trembling, and his fingers slackened their grip. Zim heaved, yanking air into his lungs with wheezing and coughing breaths. Dib backed away. “I don't understand,” he murmured helplessly. “Why won't you fight me? I hate you so much, you devious, backstabbing liar.” He bowed his head and sobbed helplessly.

Zim sat up, massaging his neck and wearily eyeing Dib's shaking shoulders. Zim reached toward him, but as soon as his fingers touched his arm, Dib jerked away. “Don't touch me.” He buried his face in his arms.

Zim watched him for a long moment before growling, “No smeet puts their hands on Zim without reciprocation.”

Dib looked up at him, and his eyes grew wide as Zim placed a hand on his arm and caressed it. Dib eyed him warily, but did not object. 

“Zim did not lie to you or stab you in the back,” Zim murmured, his gaze focused on the tense arm he was stroking. “Zim did no such things.” His hand moved up to Dib's shoulder, massaging the tense muscle at the crook of his neck.

“Then why...?” Dib's coruscated eyes pled with the gray ones of Zim's disguise.

“Why did I say I was going to come back soon and didn't for weeks?” Zim finished for him. “I thought the Irken Armada was coming to destroy Earth. I was going to meet my Tallest, as they insisted I should through the com, and while I was out there, I found I had been fooled into being re-sentenced to exile. I was taken prisoner and returned to the planet of my original banishment. I had to work there for several weeks while I planned my escape.” The three fingers of his free hand traced patterns along the inside of Dib's limp palm while his other hand massaged Dib's neck and shoulder.

Dib's watery eyes boiled over, and his hands curled into fists, ensnaring Zim's helpless fingers in his grip. “How long did you know?”

Zim winced in pain at Dib's grip. Gently trying to pull his fingers away, only to have them gripped tighter, he asked back, “How long did I know the Armada was coming? Why does it matter?”

Dib huffed, clutching Zim's fingers. “You made all those promises to me. You assured me you'd changed. You helped me to come out of my shell. You made me believe you actually cared. You made up for the first year we met by assuring me that you weren't interested in destroying us, ever since you learned that you had been sent on a fake mission. I had to learn to trust you.” He choked, regained himself, and concluded, “It's been six years since then.” He bowed his head, but his grip on Zim's hand did not slacken.

Zim continued to massage Dib's neck and shoulder with his free hand, trying not to wince at the painful grip ensnaring his other hand. “I did not break my promise, Dib. I learned the Armada was coming and knew I had to meet them immediately to stop them. I only had time to tell you I was leaving before I did. Ever since I learned that the mission on which I had been sent was false, I've known that I have nowhere else to go. This planet is as much my home as it is yours. When I learned my mission was a ploy to get rid of me, I despaired. You remember; you were there for me. You are the reason I continued to...well, you know how it went. I'm still here because of you. It's because of you that my life has meaning and purpose.”

Dib calmed at those words, and he inquired, “You're not retracting your promise? Our relationship isn't a mere ploy to distract me from your secret plot of world domination?” The corners of his lips twitched upwards as he joked.

“Of course not,” Zim assured him with a light chuckle. Then, his eyelids drooped low. “You are my whole world, Dib. That was true when I was hellbent on global domination, and it remains true now. Trying to take over the world without you there to stop me at every turn would have been so unfulfilling.”

“That doesn't make sense,” Dib commented bemusedly.

Zim pressed his face into the underside of Dib's jaw. “Neither do you, but your job is to study what doesn't make sense, Mr. Paranormal Investigator.”

“Touché...ah,” Dib gasped softly as Zim licked a stripe from the crook of his neck to the lobe of his ear. “I couldn't turn you in now—what with how...close we've become.”

“Dib,”--Zim's voice was deep and husky.--“do you want this?” His trapped fingers squirmed in Dib's grip, causing it to loosen slightly.

Dib panted several times before chuckling. “Oh, god, Zim. I mean, we've been friends for so long, but I...I've imagined this so many times. I just don't know much about your kind's...sexual structure.”

“But I know your kind's,” Zim assured him. “We're more alike than different.”

“How do you—oh,” Dib deduced. “The Internet? They don't really teach about same-sex intercourse in American health education, do they?”

“Precisely,” Zim stated, worming his fingers between Dib's and pressing their palms together as his teeth dragged along the human's neck. His free hand worked its way up Dib's shirt, feeling and exposing the delicious skin beneath.

Dib's breath caught in his throat. He arched his back as the Irken pressed his shirt up to his collar bones. Zim studied the exposed skin, his clawed fingers gliding over the soft flesh. “It's the first time I've seen you like this, Dib,” he noted softly.

Dib bit down on his lip as a low moan leaked from the back of his throat. As long as he and Zim had been close friends, he had always felt ashamed of the wet images that permeated his dreams, the times he came to completion thinking of Zim's body and what it might be like to make love to an Irken.

Zim's fingers prodded Dib's nipples with careful attention before gliding to touch every inch of Dib's exposed chest and back, relishing the warm feel of his skin. He then ordered, “Take off your shirt.”

Lifting his shoulders, Dib did as he was instructed. As soon as he was rid of the article, Zim's mouth was on his collarbones, lapping and nipping as his free hand moved down to Dib's leg, which bent under his touch, trembled as Zim's hand traveled up his thigh, and spasmed as he pressed against--“Oh!”

Zim parted from Dib's collar long enough to gaze into the human's eyes. Dib watched him carefully, wondering what could be on the Irken's mind. His pondering was cut short by Zim's lips pressing against his own as his palm ground against that sensitive place between his legs. His lips parted as he gasped, allowing Zim's long, slender tongue to slither into his mouth. Waves of pleasure rolled over Dib's body as he found himself entwining their tongues and bucking into Zim's hand.

There was the sound of a zipper being undone, and Dib had to choke back the noise that clawed at the sides of his throat as long, sharp fingers pressed him through the thin fabric of his boxers.

The feeling of Zim's weight on top of him was not entirely unfamiliar. During the past six years, moments of affection and intimacy had passed between them, sometimes without filter: moments when their hands had brushed and lingered on the library benches and walking the halls; moments when their feet had played with each other under cafeteria tables; moments of lingering looks, glances toward socially forbidden regions. Sometimes, the receiver would part his legs, or arch his back just a little in invitation. There had been long silences in the darkness of Dib's bedroom, with Zim's chest to Dib's back, breath hot against the nape of his neck, legs tangled together. Sometimes, their places would be switched, and Dib's hand would linger low on Zim's stomach. It was no surprise that Gaz had taken to referring to Zim as his boyfriend, and Dib never bothered to correct her assumption.

Dib found out that Irkens did not sleep after the first night of lying in Zim's arms. He had awoken to the Irken's hand trailing delicately over his stomach under his nightshirt, fingers dipping under the waistband of his pajama bottoms and boxers. Dib had kept his eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of that oh-so-desired touch.

“Dib,” was the only warning he received before Zim's hand slipped through the holes of his boxers to stroke him. Dib bucked into the touch, wriggling his hips in response to the wonderful ministrations of the Irken's hand on him. Lips were once more on his neck, and Dib tilted his head back to expose more of the vulnerable flesh to Zim's teeth, which eagerly pressed into his skin. “Ahh...Zim!” His legs fell open, exposing himself further, inviting Zim to touch him more and more.

“Does that feel good, Dib?” Zim inquired, his eyes clouded and breaths heavy.

“Ah, yes, Zim, yes....” A groan slipped past his lips, and Dib bit down on his forefinger to stifle his cries.

Zim's hand abandoned Dib's aching member to strip off the boy's boxers. Before Dib could comment, Zim stripped down to his bare skin. He loomed over Dib once more. Glancing down, Dib arched an eyebrow. “Zim...?”

Zim silenced him with a kiss, taking Dib's hand and leading it to the folds that reminded Dib of a vaginal crevice, which was mildly disconcerting, considering that Dib had never expressed any interest in the femayl anatomy. However, it was Zim.... Dib decided to trust his lead.

Zim urged his fingers to prod inside of him, and Dib complied, entering him with two digits, feeling Zim's tight, slick heat from inside. Zim lurched into his touch, arching his back as he felt Dib's fingers inside of him. “Ah, Dib....” he moaned, and that was when the Irken felt himself sliding forth, coaxed out by Dib's attentions. The sense of release left Zim's mind spinning with lust and need.

Dib blinked at the oddity, but relief overcame him at the sight of Zim's exposed member. However, his attention was distracted by Zim's quiet plea, “Dib, please, touch me. Please.”

Without another word, Dib took him in hand and stroked the long, fuchsia, ringed member. Zim groaned once more at his loving attentions, kissing his way up Dib's neck to his ear and nibbling the lobe. Following Dib's lead, Zim reached between the boy's legs to grip his member once more.

They stroked one another at an even pace, slippery hands sliding over heated flesh. Zim's hips jerked into Dib's hand, craving the human boy's touch. Into his ear, Zim whispered again and again, “I'm sorry, Dib. I'm so sorry. I love you.”

“And I love you, Zim,” Dib whispered in response to every plea, stroking Zim faster and faster, knowing they were both already distressingly close. “God, I've loved you for so long. I might have loved you since the day we met. I was so obsessed with you. I still am, Zim. I love you. I love you. I-I--!” He lapsed into a slew of gasps and moans that accompanied his completion.

Zim was not long to follow, releasing into Dib's hand. The Irken fell atop his mate, panting through his post-orgasmic high. Dib stroked his back, planting kisses on his shoulder. “I really mean it, Zim. I love you.”

“I know, Dib,” Zim replied between breaths. “I love you, too.” They held each other for a long moment before Zim spoke once more: “When we do this again, we should go farther.”

“How much farther?” Dib inquired, surprised that Zim would be one for pillow talk.

“I want to taste you,” he replied, his tone matter-of-fact, “and I want you to taste me. I want to explore your orifices, and I want you to explore mine further. I want you to dominate me, Dib. I want you to make me yours.”

Dib blinked. “You want me to dominate you?”

“Well, yeah,” Zim replied, rolling his eyes like it was obvious. “After all, you are taller than me.”


End file.
